


What It Is That We Do

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Category: Numb3rs (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Just a touch of submission, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: Charlie proves to be a little more adventurous than Amita initially believed.





	What It Is That We Do

The thing is, Charlie’s really  _ pretty. _

Splayed out across Amita’s bed like he is, naked and soft and red all over, she can’t help but admire him. He’s small, almost delicate, closer in frame to some of the women Amita’s had in her bed than the men, easy for her to move as she likes as she pushes her way between his legs. She doesn’t mean he’s necessarily feminine— he’s furrier than most men she’s dated, dark hair thick on his arms, chest, and legs, and his shape is most certainly male under her hands— but there is something painfully _ soft  _ about Charlie, a vulnerable sort of gentleness that Amita hasn’t ever encountered in a man before. Not a straight one, anyway.

He reaches up to hide his face, muffling the little groan that escapes when buckle of her strap-on brushes against the inside of his knee. She swats it away.

“Don’t do that, Charlie,” she murmurs. “I want to see you.”

_ “Amita...” _

She shushes him, rubbing his thigh absently with a soothing hand until he settles again under her gaze. His face is red when he meets her gaze, the blush spreading in blotchy patches down his neck and chest as he squirms. She changes her grip, squeezing his thigh with purposefully blunt nails before nudging his legs wider. He moves easily, willing and ready for her.

Smiling, Amita’s fingers find the crack of his ass, spreading him gently to inspect her handiwork. His hole twitches under her gaze, pink and wet and far too tempting.

Charlie whines when Amita presses her thumb against him, hips shifting hopefully as she lets him push himself down to the first knuckle. It’s almost sweet how desperate he is for it, how hot he is at the thought of what she’s going to do to him.

She’d thought about it before, of course, of pressing Charlie down into the sheets and making him beg for it. The idea had been written off early on, an acquiescence to the strange rituals of male machismo that Charlie somehow still believed himself to be beholden to. She hadn’t expected him to approach her, to admit in the quiet darkness of her little apartment that he wanted it, that he wanted her to do it.

“You ready, Charlie?” she asks, letting her thumb slip from its place to trail her fingers teasingly up and around the ring nestled at the base of his cock.

Charlie lets out another little whine in response, nodding furiously as he jerks up into her touch, and Amita feels a flush of pleasure low in her belly.

Reaching for the lube half-buried in the sheets, she uncaps it with her thumb and reaches between her legs, finding the weight of the purple silicone cock where it’s nestled comfortably in its leather sling, slicking it shiny before setting the bottle aside again. Pushing herself up to her knees, she shifts forward, hooking the bend of Charlie’s knee and pulling it up to rest on her shoulder as she lines herself up with his hole.

Leaning forward, she presses a gentle kiss to his chest, sinking into him with a single, steady push.

Charlie’s makes like the air’s just been punched out of his lungs, his back arching as his eyes roll back in his head. Amita goes still, giving him a chance to adjust as she peppers kisses across his chest, her tongue laving over his nipples as his hands scrabble against the sheets. She worries bruises into his skin with her teeth, smiling into his skin as he chokes on the little moans that escape his lips.

Slowly, she pulls out, letting the tip of her cock slip free as Charlie whimpers, unhappily empty again.

“Amita, _ please,”  _ he hisses, chest heaving as he stares up at her.  _ “Fuck  _ me, come on.”

Well, Amita can hardly argue with that, not when he’s asking so nicely. Lining herself up once more, she slides home in one hard push, grinning when Charlie moans and shoves back at her. Gripping both thighs, she drags him up into her lap, settling into a rhythm of long, full strokes that have Charlie squeaking with every thrust, his body jerking further and further up the bed until he has to brace himself against the headboard, palms pressed flat against the wood as she fucks him.

His cock is painfully hard between them, the tip turning an angry red as it swells against the bonds of the ring he’d let her slip around him when she’d first laid him out on her bed. Mischief strikes her when she reaches for him, her smile widening when Charlie lets out a little cry under her attentions, helpless tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he tries to choose between fucking back onto her cock or up into the loose circle of her fingers.

Sweating, crying, and desperate, and Amita hasn’t even shown him the best part of her favorite toy. Well, there’s no better time than the present.

Charlie lets out a strangled when the cock starts to vibrate, eyes wild as he tries to bucks into the sudden sensation inside him. Amita doesn’t let him get far, pinning him by the shoulders with all of her weight as she forces his hips higher, forcing his knees to his chest as she starts a new, brutal pace at a tighter, better angle, one that makes Charlie’s tongue trip over whatever it is he wants to say.

This is her favorite part, with this particular piece. The vibrations go both ways, after all, and the added sensation of every thrust coupled with Charlie’s desperate cries is enough for her to realize that this won’t last very long. Sitting up, she reaches down between them, finding the ring at the base of his cock and tearing open the velcro holding it in place. Tossing the ring over her shoulder, she reaches for him again, her grip firm this time as she strokes him faster, faster, faster—

Charlie’s hands find her back as he stiffens underneath her, cock twitching in her hand as he spurts across his chest and her breast. She doesn’t slow, even when he goes limp and boneless against her pillows, whimpering as she turns the vibrator up to its highest setting, chasing her own orgasm with quick little thrusts that have Charlie shuddering at her attentions.

Heat makes her lose her rhythm, her orgasm crashing over her as she shoves herself deep inside and holds. For a moment, she loses control; her muscles spasm, her body curling forward over him once more as she comes in waves of shaking, stuttering pleasure. Her hand fumbles at the waistband of the strap-on, the vibrator cutting off suddenly as she finally slumps forward, burying her nose in Charlie’s collar as she tries to get her breath back.

“Fuck,” she whispers, letting her fingers tangle themselves in the coarse hair of Charlie’s chest.

“Yeah,” Charlie agrees weakly. “You’re really hot.”

Charlie is a mathematician who makes his bones in easy to understand explanations and thoughtful metaphor. That being said, Amita supposes she can forgive him for his artlessness, seeing as it appears that big beautiful brain of his is currently draining out of his ears.

“I didn’t know you liked this sort of thing,” Amita says, letting the cock slip free as she settles herself more comfortably against Charlie’s chest. “Or— I wouldn’t have thought you’d like it.”

Charlie shrugs.

“I’m happy you agreed,” he says. “I know it’s… weird.”

“Not that weird,” Amita says, half a dozen flashes faces flashing through her mind as she listens to Charlie’s heartbeat. “I mean, it’s not like I had to buy anything for this.”

“You didn’t?” Charlie asks, surprised.

“Well, I was out of lube,” Amita admits after a moment. “But besides that, I was rather well prepared.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I have no idea how I got so lucky,” Charlie says, and there’s real reverence in his tone. “I can’t believe I found you, Amita.”

Amita smiles. There he goes, being sweet and soft again.

“I love you,” she says, leaning up to press her mouth to his. He opens easily for her, warm and pliant and perfectly wonderful, content to let her have her way, just for a moment.

Eventually, though, he pulls away.

“I love you, too,” he says seriously, eyes intent when they meet hers. “More than anyone.”

Warmth blooms in her chest, and she kisses him again, a close-mouthed press of her mouth to his.

“We should shower,” she says, sighing against his lips. “Before we end up glued together.”

Charlie sighs, eyes fluttering shut.

“Wouldn’t be so bad,” he murmurs, breath hot against her face.

She disagrees, but she feels it too, the satisfied exhaustion that’s already pulling Charlie towards sleep. She’s certainly going to regret it when she wakes up in the morning, but for now…

Now, she thinks she deserves a nap.

**Author's Note:**

> Look me in the eye and tell me Amita Ramanujan in a strap-on wouldn't make you cream on sight. You can't do it, because it would be a lie.


End file.
